


we could spend a few hours together

by satan_in_trouble



Series: homestuck [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Minor Jake English/Dirk Strider, Pre-Sburb/Sgrub, Sort Of, male reader - Freeform, you and dirk live in the same apartment building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23247442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satan_in_trouble/pseuds/satan_in_trouble
Summary: dirk is a quiet person. this is fine.
Relationships: Dirk Strider/Reader
Series: homestuck [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689196
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72





	we could spend a few hours together

the door looks the exact same. you know the sound the doorknob makes. you know who’s on the other side. you don’t need to be afraid.

“dirk.” 

he’s hunched over something. a project. he doesn’t look up.

“dirk, i know you heard me.”

“i’m busy.”

“you’ve been ‘busy’ for days now. have you eaten?”

he just focuses back on his work.

you sigh, a way to let him know you’re upset. dirk has been your friend for a very long time, and you’ve learned that he’s a stubborn bastard.

“c’mon, dude, just like- come do something with me. for thirty minutes. take a break.”

“ten.”

“fine. that’s fine. we’re going to sit on the roof. come on.”

\--

dirk has other friends, people you’ve barely met. he talks about them on occasion, in passing, a short mention of something they said.

there’s one named jane, who told dirk about her love for baking. there’s one named roxy, who is perpetually lost in the sauce. 

there’s one named jake. 

dirk seemed a bit lost for words on jake. if he weren’t so hellbent on being emotionless, he might have been smiling. 

that’s fine. dirk is allowed to like guys who apparently live in the fucking woods. you don’t even know why it’s so upsetting to you.

\--

you live in the apartment below him. dirk is noisy sometimes. loud metallic clangs. heavy stomps. you like it.

he barely comes to your place, preferring to spend time in his home. he’ll respond to your pesters, and will talk when you come to him, but he never seeks you out.

which is fine. you like dirk’s company, so the short trip upstairs is no bother, and it’s understandable that he’d want alone time. 

“dirk, have you ever met your other friends?”

“no. they all live far away, and i wouldn’t be able to afford four plane tickets anyway.” his shades are pushed down his nose a bit more than usual. you can see a glimpse of his eyes.

“oh, yeah. makes sense.”

\--

“hey, strider. d-stride. i read this thing the other day about possible alien species.”

“why are you standing on my couch?” he’s not even facing you, so you don’t know how he saw you.

“um. it’s fun? i don’t know.”

he hums, an amused sound, and you really like hearing it. dirk being amused is better than him being pissed, or worse, blank.

“hey, come watch this with me. it’s an ad for a game.”

you blink, and quickly jump off the couch and towards him. the computer screen is showing a brightly colored video - a lot of neon green. you lean over dirk’s shoulder to watch, excited by the game and how close you are. dirk feels warm. 

as soon as the video ends, he shifts away. that’s fine, he doesn’t like a lot of contact.

“dude, that looks fucking sick. how much is it?”

“sixty bucks.” he says, reading off the ad.

“damn. maybe i can save up for it.” 

\--

“you got the game! holy shit. dude. that’s baller.” you’re speaking right as the door opens. dirk is letting you walk past him, closing the door quietly. “did your other friends get it? damn, i wish i could afford it - maybe i’ll get it when i have more cash? we can play together.”

“i don’t know if we could. i don’t think you can just add players into sessions. you’d need someone else to work with.”

you drop your hands, a half-frown, half-smile on your face. 

“oh. yeah, that makes sense. okay, well, you can tell me about the cool shit you do in the game. y’know.”

“sure. i’ll probably get it in the mail soon.”

“sick!” you say, and both of you move on from it. you don’t bring it up again. dirk has other friends he’d rather play with, and that’s fine. you can’t be his only friend.

\--

“hey, dirk. what was it you wanted to tell me?” you’re flopping down into a chair, looking at him. he’s tapping his pointer finger on the counter.

“i might be busy for a while. with the game. so don’t bother me.”

“you’re always busy, dude. that’s never stopped me before.” you try to laugh, but it just sounds weird. “what is it really?”

“i know you like me. or have some kind of interest in me.” his body is turned towards you, but you have the feeling he’s looking somewhere else under his pointy shades. “and i don’t feel the same way. in fact, i don’t fully consider us friends. so stop harassing me for a while.”

your body stills. the room is warm, you’re in fucking texas, for god’s sake, but you feel cold. the chair feels stiff. you make yourself sit up.

“oh.” you start mumbling, pushing up from the chair, trying not to look at him. “um. okay. i’ll give you space. sorry. i just- y’know. i guess i misinterpreted. sorry.” 

he’s not saying anything. that’s fine. dirk is a quiet dude. you get out of his apartment as fast as you can. abscond, one could say. you shut the door behind you.

you don’t cry walking down the stairs, you don’t cry walking to your door, you don’t cry sitting down on your bed. you aren’t going to cry. this is fine, you knew dirk didn’t like you like that, so what’s so upsetting about this?

he didn’t even consider you a friend. you’ve known him for 6 years. 

you sort of wish the earth would get hit by a meteor right now, that the world would end, so you don’t have to think about the pain in your ribs or the warm tears on your face.

whatever. it’s fine. you’ll be fine. 

\--

(when the world does end, you aren’t crying. you just walked up to the top floor of the building. the door looks the exact same. you know the sound the doorknob makes. you sit outside of it, staring out the hallway window. the city - it’s all bright orange.)

**Author's Note:**

> is it obvious i have no clue how to write for dirk?


End file.
